THE VISION OF A NEW WORLD
Perfect silence, perfect stillness, and the clouds whirled round and
round outside.
In vain they tried to move the ship. The engines worked smoothly, and
with perfect rhythm, but were powerless to propel the Argenta.
The death of Murdoch had a terribly depressing effect on every one—they
all missed his kindly brusqueness, his forethought and stolid help.
When Masters was sufficiently recovered he told his story. “I got
through the ether all right,” said he. “I was through in a second and
was standing on the exposed deck at the mercy of the elements. The cold
was intense—I’ve never before experienced anything like it. In those few
seconds it just cut through me. I could hardly see—my eyes filled with
water, and smarted terribly as the gaseous vapour touched them. I
lowered my handkerchief for the tiniest fragment of a second, and drew a
very slight breath. The effect was terrible. My lungs felt as if they
would burst—my mouth felt as if it had been seared with hot irons—my
senses reeled; I felt as if I should fall. Then I became conscious of
Murdoch lying huddled at my feet. I pulled him into the cabin after me,
and well,—you know the rest. Poor Murdoch—I was too late.”
The excitement following the loss of Murdoch and Masters’ adventure
after him, had made the hungry prisoners forget the emptiness of their
larder. They all sat down to a hearty meal, and it was only at the end
they realized it meant their being on still shorter rations in the
future. And only too soon the larders were indeed empty! Mavis grew too
weak to move, and lay helpless on her bed, her baby at her breast.
Masters was the last to give in, and as he walked unsteadily to his
cabin, he had visions of Sir John on one chair and Alan on another, each
vainly trying to whisper words of comfort to the other.
Still the ship remained motionless—the stillness was of the grave.
Suddenly a whitish beam of light shot out through the clouds, and Alan
saw a new moon rising. And as he watched he saw another skim the
heavens, and another, and yet another. He looked at them in
perplexity—four pink tipped crescents in the sky!
“Four Moons! God!” he cried. “The four satellites of Jupiter! Or should
there be eight? Four—eight—eight—four.” His brain muddled. Four Moons
visible at once! Jupiter! He was witnessing the rise of four of the
planet’s moons! He was watching them through the misty clouds—then came
a blessed sense of oblivion, and he too, lost consciousness. When he
awoke again, it was with a feeling that the Argenta was again moving
through space—moving slowly, but with a speed that was gradually
quickening. He staggered to his feet, and bent over his uncle. Sir John
was still breathing, but there was a curious greyness in his face, and
Alan moistened his lips with a drop of brandy. The old man moved, and
opened his eyes. “Drink a little,” said Alan kindly. “It will do you
good.”
Sir. John managed to swallow a little of the burning fluid, and sighing
naturally, closed his eyes in sleep. With difficulty, Alan managed to
reach Desmond’s room, for he was very weak. He found Mavis lying on her
bed, hardly breathing: the babe lay in her arms sleeping peacefully. She
had given the very essence of her strength to her child, and he had
scarcely suffered at all.
Desmond was breathing heavily, jerkily, the breath came like sobs from
between his clenched teeth. Alan forced some of the brandy between his
lips and said huskily, “Dez, old boy: don’t leave me, old chap; we’ve
been through some tight corners, don’t give up yet.”
Desmond struggled to a sitting position. “Good old Lanny,” he muttered.
“I must see Masters,” said Alan. “Keep up, if you can, till I return.”
Alan reeled from side to side in his weakness as he struggled on to
Masters’ cabin. It was empty! He was almost too weak to think or act
coherently.
“Masters,” he moaned. “Where are you?” Slowly he made his way back to
the little room in the bows, and as he neared it, a brilliant beam of
light shot across his path. The unexpectedness of it threw him off his
balance, and he would have fallen, had not Masters rushed forward and
put his arm about him.
The light was strong. So strong that they could feet the heat of its
rays through the little glass window.
“What is it?” he asked.
Masters could hardly speak. His lips were swollen and blackened, and his
tongue parched. “Help,” said he thickly. “That light is like a magnet—it
is drawing us somewhere. It’s sent out by human agency I am sure. See
how it flutters and fades, only to come bright again.” They watched the
ray—it was focussed directly on the bows, and it seemed to be drawing
them closer and closer to some harbour of refuge. Still they were going
through the encircling clouds, which had suddenly turned to a most
beautiful roseate hue. Then without any warning they emerged and found
they were gazing on the most wonderful scene they had ever beheld.
It was more wonderful than their thoughts could have expressed. Imagine
hovering over the most wondrous piece of natural scenery—double—treble
its beauty, and even then you could have no idea of the grandeur, the
poetry of the picture they gazed upon.
They were, perhaps, three thousand feet up. Mountains rose all round
with rocky crevasses, and wonderful waterfalls dashing down their sides.
Foaming waters trickled and bubbled and laughed by the sides of grassy
paths. An inland lake glowed in the glory of the sunshine. Trees of all
kinds nestled in the valleys and climbed the hillsides.
A sea—a glorious azure sea—with dancing waves and white flecked foam
rolled merrily in and out on wonderful white sands. There were rocks and
caves, and velvety grass slopes along the sea shore; babbling brooks
merged into the blue, blue waters; tall lilies, virginal white, mingled
with roses, red like wine, and grew in clusters at the water’s edge. All
was nature at her best—unspoiled by man.
Wooded islets were dotted about in still more wonderful bays; birds
white as snow, birds with plumage rainbow-hued floated idly on the
waters, and added to the picturesque beauty. They could see little
buildings nestling among the trees here and there, buildings that, like
the châlets of Switzerland, only added to the beauty of the scene.
The airship had stopped suddenly, and they were unable to move her, and
still they hovered over the wonderful land. Sea—sky—both of a most
glorious blue; the verdure of this new land was green—“The same as our
world,” murmured Alan.
“But with what a difference,” whispered Sir John.
“I never knew what the sea was until now,” said Alan. “I never realized
what ‘colour’ was—what blue or green meant, until I looked down yonder.”
New life was born in the three men. “I’ll call Desmond,” said Alan.
Mavis was lying as he had left her—white, inert, silent. “Leave her,” he
told his cousin. “She will be quite safe; but we’ve news at last—we are
in sight of land.”
When he reached the bows again, he saw they had dropped a few hundred
feet, and were now well below the summit of the mountains.
Below them, in a fertile valley, they saw what they thought were six
giant birds running along a field. They rose, soared straight up, and
flew directly toward the Argenta. They were like swans with outstretched
wings, and necks like swans; but never had they seen birds of such a
monstrous size.
“They are as big as a small plane,” said Sir John wonderingly.
“By Jove, I believe that’s what they are,” said Alan.
As the “birds” drew nearer, they could see that the body was in reality
the car of the plane. Soon six were circling round the Argenta, and the
prisoners within could see figures standing in the cars of the strange
looking aeroplanes.
The Argenta gave a jolt, and quivered from stem to stern, and they felt
themselves sinking. The newcomers had thrown out some kind of grappling
rope and were pulling them to earth. They were nearer to this wonderful
country. Already they could see the brilliant flowers—trees laden with
wonderful fruit and bright plumaged birds fluttering about without any
sign of fear.
“Release the shutters,” said Alan hoarsely.
“No,” said Sir John with decision. “Remember we have on board a
defenceless woman and her child. We don’t yet know if we are in the
hands of friends or enemies. I’ll get my revolver. Dez, my boy, I’ll
give it to you. Stay in your cabin and be prepared. You understand?”
“Shoot—her?” asked Desmond hoarsely.
Sir John bowed his head. “Surely you would rather do it than me?”
“Yes—but—”
“There is no ‘but,’ my boy. Rather death than horrors unnameable. Stay
in the cabin with your wife and child. If I think we are in good hands I
will call you. Otherwise, I will give our whistle—the one we used when
you were boys—the three sharp calls, and a long minor note,” and he
illustrated it softly. “If you hear that,—don’t hesitate, my boy.” They
gripped hands, and Desmond, dazed, speechless, walked unsteadily out of
the room, and they heard the click of his cabin door as it closed behind
him.
Slowly, but surely the Argenta was being dragged down to the field
below. At last they touched solid ground—there was a scrunch and a
grating—they were on some earth at last.
“Alan,” said Sir John grimly. “I have two other revolvers on board.
Masters, if the worst comes to the worst, and I give the warning whistle
for Mr. Desmond, go in to him. If he does not turn the weapon on himself
do it for him—and keep a spare bullet for yourself.”
“I understand, sir.”
The six white “birds” had also reached land, and from out of the bodies
they saw strange figures appear. The figures were like themselves—yet
how different! The men approaching were perhaps under average height,
but they were beautifully moulded, muscular with a symmetry of form that
was glorious to behold.
All but one wore white—a garment that reached to their feet, and which
resembled in shape a Roman toga. This white garment was embroidered with
richly coloured silks at the neck, wrists and hem. On their heads, they
wore fillets of gold. The leader was garbed in a garment of the same
shape, but of a glorious blue bound with gold, and his fillet was
studded with gems that shone and flashed in the sunlight. All walked up
to the Argenta and smiled through the little window at the occupants.
Then the leader opened his hands—held them up empty, and with a charming
smile, bowed low before them. Then he seemed to issue a command, and all
the others, there were altogether perhaps thirty of them, followed his
example, and bowed before them.
“They look friendly,” said Sir John. “Masters, let the shutters be
raised—then stand near Mr. Desmond’s cabin. If I shout—‘view halloo!’
bid him to come out on to the upper deck, but—”
“But if I hear the whistle, sir, I shall know what to do.”
“Keep your revolver hidden, Alan,” said Sir John, and they made their
way to the upper deck.
They waited in silence for the ether to be pumped back into its
cylinders, and for the shutters to lift. Gradually light came creeping
in through chinks here and there—higher and higher was lifted the moving
metal, until at last the two men drank in fresh air and bathed in
glorious sunshine once again. They found they could scarcely move along
the deck—in fact it was with the greatest difficulty they could keep
their balance. They felt horribly material and gross.
“What is it?” whispered Alan.
“The law of gravity, my boy. Wherever we are, I should say it is about
three times the strength of that we were used to when we were on Terra.
I think we have about trebled our weight.”
The strangers had advanced—the leader was smiling graciously. He gave
another command, and his band of followers came to a sudden halt, and he
approached the Argenta—alone. He addressed them in a language they did
not understand.
“I do not understand—” commenced Sir John, but before he could say any
more the stranger spoke—haltingly it is true, and as if unused to it,
but he spoke in English.
“Where are we?” cried Sir John in amazement.
“You are on, what I think you would call—Jupiter.”
“Jupiter?”
“Yes. And may I welcome you strangers to our land of plenty. I know not
who you are or whence you come—but you are welcome—very welcome. But you
look tired—”
“You are not enemies, then?” cried Sir John.
“Enemies?” repeated the Jovian. “I understand not the word.”
“You are friends?”
“Friends of course—we are all friends. Can you find a more beautiful
word than friendship?”
“Thank God! Thank God!” cried Sir John, and with a wild “View Halloo”
issuing from his lips, he fell senseless to the ground.